


Strange Frontiers

by worstpersoninyourfandom



Series: She-Ra A/B/O BS [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Emotional Support Animal Melog, Horde Prime is a fucked up dude, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Rescue Missions, Strange Catra & Hordak bonding fic you didn't know you wanted, Torture, Trauma, but not really relevent, just in that universe, why is that not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26801893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worstpersoninyourfandom/pseuds/worstpersoninyourfandom
Summary: It isn’t long after their victory that he finds her, off to the side, watching the celebration from afar. Hordak, of all people, with one last mission before they're done. Trying to work on her good deeds list, Catra goes with, into the belly of Horde Prime's ship, to face yet another horror from the dead tyrant's hands.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Catra & Hordak (She-Ra)
Series: She-Ra A/B/O BS [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952122
Comments: 13
Kudos: 111





	Strange Frontiers

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I read all those "Horde Prime likes to fuck/fuck-up the clones" fics, and instinctively need to turn the hurt into hurt/comfort. I hope Catra isn't to OOC here, I'm trying to extrapolate on where her character goes post-series finale.

It isn’t long after their victory that he finds her, off to the side, watching the celebration from afar. It’s not that she’s _shy,_ she was never shy, nor is it that she thinks Adora is ashamed of her, though she has every right to be. If there’s one thing she’s sure of now, it’s Adora’s love. Because, hey, fake love doesn’t save a planet, doesn’t bring someone basically back from the dead. But still, these are Adora’s friends, not hers really, not yet at least, and so when Mermista comes up and uncharacteristically embraces Adora, she slips away.

(Later, when things are more settled, the water princess seeks her out.

“Hey, um, Catra? I’m sorry for attacking you. I was, you know,” she finishes, lamely, gesturing at the tendrils of scar wrapping around her neck.

“No hard feelings,” Catra replies, then takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry too, for, for everything.” They don’t have to go into any more detail, neither really comfortable with the whole _feelings_ thing, but there still is an understanding there. Melog winds around Mermista’s legs, and she reaches out a hand to shake.

“Friends?”

“Friends,” Catra agrees. The word is unfamiliar in her mouth, but she thinks she likes it in plural. It was only ever singular, before, and then it was nothing for a long, long time.)

Now, she sits, fingers twinging in Melog’s hair, and watches them. Watches _her_ more specifically, her beautiful princess. For once, she isn’t jealous to see Adora laughing and joking with her friends, wrapping an arm around Glimmer and another around Entrapta, who stiffens at the touch before carefully extracting herself with her hair, still smiling. Adora was hers now, she believed it, and other omegas were no longer a threat. _Not that they had been before,_ she chastised herself, _you’re just a possessive bitch._ Melog bristled at her negative thoughts, bringing Catra back to herself.

“Sorry,” she told him, “Old habits die hard.”

The sound of a throat clearing behind her startled her. She spun, landing in a crouch, ready to fight. It was Hordak, of all people. His presence didn’t exactly reassure her, but she retracted her claws all the same.

“Catra,” he began, then stopped, eyeing Melog’s red form between them. She didn’t call him off, simply waited. They may be allies again, but that didn’t mean she had to like him.

“Catra,” he began again, “I know I’ve hurt you.” That was an understatement. But then again, she was probably equally to blame. And now, knowing more of where her former boss had come from, she wasn’t even sure if he _was_ to blame for his own actions. She settled back, pulling Melog behind her through their bond. She waited for him to continue.

“I’ve done many things I’m not proud of, but I’m trying to fix that.” He looked incredibly uncomfortable. She didn’t give him the reprieve of a response, indicating she wasn’t satisfied. “Despite, well, everything, I need to ask you one last favor.” Of course, a favor. She laughed. Some things never change.

“Can I at least get an apology first?” He looked relived at that, long ears perking up.

“Yes, of course, Entrapta was saying…” he cut himself off, realizing that mentioning the source of much of their strife was probably not the best course of action.

“I’m sorry, Catra, and I hope you can forgive me.” It sounded sincere at least, and after everything, she was inclined to believe him. After all, they both knew what it was like to live one’s life being manipulated into thinking your path was the only righteous one, while also believing you yourself were far from righteous.

“I forgive you.” It felt freeing to say, much like how she had felt watching Shadow Weaver die. Another part of her old life gone, another step forward. Melog began to purr behind her.

“I’m sorry too, for what it’s worth. And I’ll even apologize to your girlfriend, after this favor.” He blushed, and the green flush nearly reached the tips of his ears.

“Ah, the favor, yes. I need to get to Prime’s ship.”

“Why don’t you ask Entrapta? She’d love any excuse to go to space again.”

“I need to get there fast. And,” he looked away, “There are certain things I don’t want her to see, to know about the Horde.”

“So you figure I’m already fucked up enough, what’s a little more trauma?” He opened his mouth to protest that statement, but she cut him off.

“I’m kidding, let’s go.”

_Helping horde-ack, be back soon,_ she messaged Adora, then hesitated and added _Love you._ Storing her communicator, she grabbed his strange, withered hand. He stiffened at the touch, much like Entrapta would, but she held on anyway. She tried not to enjoy his discomfort, knowing it wasn’t ~good~ for her healing process. Still, she liked having the power in this situation. With a hand on Melog’s head, the three of them were gone.

On the ship, they walked in silence. She had no idea how he knew where to go. She had been part of the hivemind too, but was completely lost amongst the seemingly endless identical corridors. Then again, he had been connected for far longer than either her or Wrong-Hordak. Maybe some of it stuck.

“It’s not because you’re ‘fucked up’,” he said, suddenly breaking the silence. “I know you’re strong. I’ve fought you, I know what you can do. I know what Shadow Weaver did to you, I know you’re resilient. I…” he seemed loath to finish the sentence, “I respect you, Catra. And I know you can handle what’s coming.” They had stopped, in front of a large ornate door.

“When Prime died, most of his worst plans were stopped. I trust that my Brothers who are in charge of the production of nutrient paste will make the right decision. But this room is hidden except to very few. There are souls in here who have suffered the worst of Prime’s reign, and I don’t know if anyone else is coming for them. Its only us, Catra, do you understand?”

She nodded, queasy at the reminder about Prime’s soylent, even though she had already known about it through the hivemind. The clones were programed to serve his every whim, even if that meant dying for their master’s sustenance. Reassured, Hordak opened the door.

Though there were many sentient species who called Etheria their home, most shared some common features. They stood on two legs, communicated verbally, and had a few different biological genders. All produced pheromones to aid in communication. For the longest time, Catra had just assumed Hordak was a beta, and that his armor prevented her scenting his moods. She supposed that others of his species would show the typical spread of alpha, beta and omega. And, maybe this was in fact true of the species at one point. Now, though, as all the clones were made in Prime’s image, they also shared the same beta characteristics. Their pheromones, if they existed at all, were weak and relatively useless for communication. Not that it mattered, because the mental connections were more than enough. Still, they were not completely without scent, and very strong emotions tended to be detectable, at least to a sensitive Magicat. When Hordak opened the door, Catra was hit with a wave of pure _fear,_ fear of pain, fear of death, fear of them. It nearly knocked her back, unused to this type of pheromone. Still, she remembered what he had said about being strong, squared her shoulders, and pushed past him into the room.

It was ornately decorated, with a grand four-poster bed at the center, and lavish tapestries on the walls. They depicted Horde ships conquering and destroying planets and people, but also served to muffle sound in what would have otherwise been a large echoing chamber. Arranged about the room where clones, and Catra quickly saw the reason for the acid scent of fear. There were probably twenty of them, with half huddled close together under what looked like a rack of torture implements. All were naked, and she noted, with some curiosity, that they completely lacked external genitalia. They seemed scared and bruised, but relatively unharmed, so she turned her attention to the rest of the room. Here, it became clear the reason for Hordak’s urgency in rescuing these brothers.

Closest to her, near the foot of the bed’s platform, a clone was attached to some sort of table, with a machine pounding what looked like a barbed shaft in and out of his… cloaca? She could question their strange anatomy later, and continued to mentally triage the room. On the bed, three clones surrounded the prone form of a fourth. They all seemed whole enough, at first glance, but when she looked closer, she saw that one was missing his ears, another eyes, and the third an arm. The one on the bed had no limbs at all, and was being cradled in the lap of the blind one. Glancing back at the group in the corner, she noted that a few of them sported semi-healed mutilations. To the right of them, along the wall, three more clones were suspended in restraints affixed to their wrists and ankles. One seized as her eyes passed over him, shocked by some unseen electrical current.

She stored the images away, mentally directing them past any emotional response to her logical core. It wouldn’t help anyone to break down at the horrific sights in front of her. When her eyes returned to Hordak, she gestured her head to the clone on the machine, while he indicated the one being electrocuted. Nodding, she agreed with his judgement of their most urgent duties, and made her way towards the bed.

At first, she wasn’t even sure this clone was alive, eyes closed and head lolling with every thrust from the machine. A quick hand to his neck pulse point reassured her, and she looked for some way to stop the torture. There was a control panel near the base, but it required fingerprint access. Frustrated, she put her fist through it instead. The motor ground to a halt. Before she tried to move the clone, she ran a quick hand over him, checking for anything life-threatening. There was a copious amounts of neon green liquid around his ass and thighs. She had seen the color before, and realized, with a chill, that it was their blood. He had lost so much already, and when she slid the spiked shaft out, gentle as possible, more of it followed. Repressing her anger, she focused on removing the restraints that kept him on the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Melog doing the same to a clone on the wall, while Hordak worked next to him. The tortured clone fell forward into his arms, and, uncharacteristically, Hordak embraced him. Such tenderness was wrote clear on the former warlord’s face, and Catra had to look away. She refocused on the clone in her care, who was beginning to stir. _Gentleness_ was something she was trying to become ok with, both giving and receiving, and she put her all into lifting him up, collecting his much taller body in her arms, and lowering him to the floor. Still, he gave a sharp gasp when his destroyed bottom came in contact with the cold marble, and his eyes shot open. It was always hard to tell where the pupil-less eyes were looking, but there was no mistaking the shock and fear infused into that wide-eyed gaze. _What do you say to someone you’ve just removed from some sort of horrible rape machine?_ She thought, wildly. _What did she wish someone had said to her?_

“It’s over,” she told him. “It’s over and it won’t happen again.” She couldn’t tell him he was ok, or that he would be fine. But she could reassure him that this, at least, was done with.

They collected the clones, still stinking of fear, and Hordak led them through the corridors to some sort of med bay. He tenderly cradled the one from the table in his arms, and the clone pressed his tear-stained face in Hordak’s dark robes. Catra said nothing of it, knowing to hold her tongue here. The one who had been electrocuted clung to Melog’s back, while the one with no ears carried his limbless brother. Catra led the blind one by the arm, and the rest followed. They were slow, and walked painfully, but they were newly free in a way she could sympathize with.

At the med bay, other clones bustled around, making preparations, moving others injured in the war. At first, none of them would make eye contact with Catra, shrinking away in fear. She reached up, tugging down her collar to expose the scars her chip had left. _I understand,_ she wanted to project, _I don’t judge you._ Then, it was a race to triage, treat, and organize, and their fear dissipated into concern for their injured brothers.

She was surprised to see that, even without the hivemind linking them, the clones continued to treat each other as if each were an extension of themselves. There was no pride here, no hierarchy. There was only the same tender concern she had seen on Hordak’s face, and the naked love between the clones made her almost uncomfortable. It was so intense, so pure. Once she saw that all of their charges were attended to, she pulled back, Melog following through their bond. Hordak stayed in the fray, following other’s orders in a way she had thought him uncapable of. Eventually, he looked up at her. She never thought she would get here with _Hordak_ of all people, but silently they communicated a plan. He extricated himself, and followed her and Melog out.

“Hordak?” she asked, as they traced their way back through the corridors. “Were you, were you ever in that room?” She had been picking it over in her brain, wondering how he knew of a place even she, who had had access to the hivemind, was ignorant of. His responding growl gave her all the answer she needed. She filed that information away, to parse out with Adora later. Maybe she would even have to talk to Entrapta about it, and she hated that she was considering how to talk to her former friend/former enemy/current ?? about her former boss/former enemy/current ??’s past traumas. Melog bumped against her leg reassuringly, and she amended the thought. Future friend, she hoped, for both of them. The past was behind them, her mistakes and theirs, and she cautiously allowed herself to feel optimistic about their shared healing.

In bed that night, she curled close to Adora. She now let herself travel up the bed, but was still uncomfortable being under the sheets with her. She didn’t know why, but didn’t push herself on it, for now. Adora listened carefully, holding her hand as Catra told her about their mission. After, she comforted her, allowed her to expunge all the emotions she had been tamping down all day. Adora had always been the emotional one, but on that night they cried together. Melog even contributed to the scene, his soft _rwor-rowr-wraw_ filing the room. When they were done, they held each other, lapsed into companionable silence.

Catra’s mind drifted back, stuck again and again on the look on Hordak’s face while he comforted his brothers. She had never seen him that raw, even in private moments with Entrapta. There was something else the clones shared. It made her wonder. Magicats typically had litters, and while Catra tried to avoid thinking about how she had ended up in the Horde, she now allowed herself to consider the possibility that maybe she wasn’t the only one. Maybe she had siblings out there, brothers and sisters who had avoided her fate, lived normal lives. As normal as possible when your country is occupied. She felt incredibly lonely for a moment, mourning the loss of her family, her species’ culture. Melog, sensing her distress as usual, began grooming her hair with his large, rough tongue. _Oh._ If there was anything in her life close to the bond the clones had, it was with her incredible, magical companion. They read each other’s moods, communicated without words through their bond, and no other creature (sorry Adora) had ever made her feel as safe. She could tell he felt her sentiment, as loud purrs began to fill the room. Smiling, she dug her fingers into his mane, and tried her best to groom him back. Her tongue was woefully inadequate, and soon she had to stop, mouth full of fluff.

A soft chuckle came from behind them, and she turned to see Adora watching her, a big goofy smile on her face.

“What are you looking at?” she teased.

“Just my mate, the love of my life, you know,” Adora shrugged. Catra blushed at the words, but didn’t correct her. She snuggled close to her friend, with Melog still purring behind her, the happiest she had been in recent memory. They stayed like that, and Catra could feel herself drifting off to sleep. She pulled against it, knowing there was one more thing she had to say.

“Hey Adora.” Blue eyes meet mismatched ones. Catra took a breath, ready to be brave.

“Will you, will you share my next heat with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe next weekend I'll get another one done, next step is Catra's backstory in this universe (aka more hurt/no comfort) and then from there its allllll love and fluff and healing.


End file.
